Vacation
by MixedBreedMaiya
Summary: [Raine/Regal headcanon installment] All they want is a little time away - but it's the getting there that proves difficult. Running a company is hard enough, but juggling three children? That's where the real heroism is.


Good evening! I just posted a hot-off-the-presses chapter for Living the Lie, but I've been sitting on this little oneshot for a week or so, and I decided to go ahead and post it. It's more headcanon of the Bryant clan and what happens when they try to get away for a while. Clearly they need it! Enjoy.

* * *

"Mom, I can't find one of my books!"

"If you put it back on the shelf when you were finished, you wouldn't have that problem—oh, no you don't. _You _are overdue for a bath, young lady."

"Moooommm!"

"Micah, ask your older sister, please."

"I did! She didn't even pay attention to me! She's too busy writing to her stupid boyfriend."

"Rosalie, stop thrashing like a wild animal. It's a bath, not a death sentence."

"Nooo!"

"_Mom_!"

"Micah!"

As he opened the door, he did so almost cautiously, not quite knowing what to expect on the other side. The tired sharpness in his wife's voice, the impatience in his son's, and the panicked squealing of his youngest daughter made him uncertain whether to cringe or laugh. The latter might not be much appreciated, though, so he kept it to himself—mostly.

"Good heavens," he mused instead, setting down his bag next to the door after he'd closed it behind himself. "What am I walking into?"

Raine twisted to look over her shoulder from the base of the steps. Little Rose was in her arms, albeit in a somewhat unceremonious position, half-sideways and squirming around as only a two-year-old could do, while Micah stood nearby in his pajamas, face flushed. His wife smiled grimly. "Welcome back to the three-ring circus," she said, turning to face him. "We ought to sell tickets."

"Dada!" called Rose, wiggling to reach toward him. She fought her mother's grasp again, but it held firm, much to her clear frustration. Regal waved at her and smiled as he took off his jacket to hang it up.

"What about my book, Mom?" demanded the boy, making Raine sigh tersely and close her eyes. Fluidly, Regal stepped into the situation, coming further into the room.

"What's happened to your book, son?"

Micah turned to him, a pout on his face. "I can't _find _it. I had it in the study, but it was gone after I took my bath, and I need it for tomorrow!"

Ah-hah. The chaos of packing for a family vacation. Regal glanced about. There were bags half-full of clothing in the otherwise neat and tidy living room, and a couple of discrete piles of other items waiting to be tucked away nearby. She had had a busy day; he actually felt a little bad for having to go into the office at all, much less for a late night, and leaving her with it on top of three children. At least Chava was unlikely to be trouble, though she was quite absent from the room.

"The study, you said?"

"Uh-huh."

"I think Chava was in there earlier," said his weary wife, still fighting to keep Rosalie from escaping.

"I _need _it!" Micah repeated, and before Raine could lose her already tried temper, he placed a hand atop his son's head to quiet him.

"Calm down. We'll find it. In the meantime, go up to your room and finish packing. I will be up to help you shortly."

His young face went a deeper shade of angry red. "But—!"

Regal fixed him with a stern stare. "Micah, to your room, please. I promise we will find your book, but right now I need you to listen."

Reproachful, Micah spun and skulked around his mother to climb the stairs two at a time. He went noisily all the way, and both parents followed the sound of his footsteps with their eyes until they heard his bedroom door close. Luckily for him, he knew better than to slam it.

Mother and father shared a look before she shook her head. "The joys of parenthood," she grunted, and he had to smile a little.

"I take it the day has been hectic."

"That's a word for it."

"Would you like me to take care of Rosie's bath and putting her down?"

Again she shook her head, very skillfully ignoring the piercing shriek of, "No!", that issued from their youngest. "No, I'll do it."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. But," she added dryly as she turned to start climbing the stairs herself, "what you can do is find that damned book before we have to declare an island-wide state of emergency."

He chuckled, though he had to wince as the squealing resumed. With a shake of his own head, he made for the study. His son was a bright boy, but for all his cleverness, he was exceptionally adept at losing things.

As he passed into the room, the scratching of a pen on paper drew his eyes toward the desk tucked in the corner. His head tilted, but he smiled a little wider, just watching the adolescent girl bent over what appeared to be a rather important letter. There was a smile on her face, too, though hers was absent. The tip of her tongue held between her teeth in the corner of her mouth nearly made him laugh. Instead, while the amusement shone in his eyes, he came forward slowly until he could stand right behind her. She mightn't have noticed at all, either, if it hadn't been for the long shadow he cast over her.

Chava blinked a few times, then twisted to look over her shoulder at him. It wasn't lost on her astute father that she splayed a hand out over her letter even while she beamed up at him, and he arched an eyebrow.

**Welcome home**, she signed with the other.

**Good evening**, he offered in return. He leaned forward a bit, setting his hands on her shoulders, and nodded at her project. "You seem very invested in your writing, there. It must be quite the composition." It was a tease, and the way her smile turned shy behind a pale pink dust while she ran her fingers back through her long hair told him all he needed to know about just whom she was writing _to_.

**I want to finish it so it can be sent out before we leave tomorrow. **Still embarassed, she drew the letter closer to hide a little more of it, and Regal straightened up to afford her the privacy she wanted. It was still a peculiar thing, knowing his little girl had a fancy, even if she wouldn't admit it outright—but she was sixteen, no longer a child, and unsetling as it was for a (perhaps overly) protective father, it was a natural thing.

He just hoped, for the sake of the young Wilder heir, that Alexander never broke his daughter's heart. There would undoubtedly be hell to pay should that smile ever turn to tears on his account.

"I see. Well, I won't keep you from it long, but it seems your brother has misplaced a particular book, and I fear no one will get any peace unless and until we find it. You don't happen to have seen it, I suppose?"

Chava started to shake her head, but after a beat, she snapped her fingers and stood up. **Wait! Sorry. Did he say which book it was? I was packing some things and doing some cleaning, and I found this... **She scooted her chair to the side and crouched to reach under the desk and draw out a box. One hand signed over her shoulder while the other pawed through the contents. **It was left out open on the floor. Is this it? **At last she eased out a thick book and twisted to hold it up for him.

Regal accepted it, giving the volume a quick once over. **Probably**, he signed. **Let's hope so, in any case.** He offered a wry smile, which she returned, and then tapped her gently on the crown twice with the book. **You nearly caused all-out panic, my dear.**

** Sorry. I was going to ask if he wanted to pack it, but... **She bit down on one thumbnail and peeked up, signing a small, apologetic, **I** **forgot.**

"Well." He gave her his hand to help her back to her feet and took the opportunity to put his arm around her and hold her close for an instant. "I'll take it up to him and defuse the bomb, and it will be our little secret, hm? In the meantime..." Releasing her, he nodded to the desk and the sheet of paper sitting on its surface. "You finish writing your letter and then get to packing. We have an early start in the morning."

**I will. I'm almost done.**

He smiled again and touched her cheek affectionately. As he was leaving the study, he couldn't resist adding a lofty, "Do say hello to Alexander and his family for me." His back was to her, so he couldn't see her reaction, but he had a pretty good imagination.

Carefully stepping around the cat, who was characteristically sitting in the direct center of the room and bathing herself, still limber despite how old she was getting, Regal began climbing the stairs with the offending book tucked under his arm. Down the hall, he could hear frantic splashing and two voices arguing with each other, and he coughed into his hand to smother the laughter bubbling up and turned, instead, to head to Micah's room. Poor Raine. She needed this vacation as much as anyone. Maybe next time he would find a sitter and take her somewhere, just the two of them.

He rapped on Micah's door before pushing it open carefully. "Micah," he hailed. He had to stop there in the doorway, though, and blink at the utter disaster that was this bedroom.

Clothes were strewn all over the floor, the bed, the desk. Socks, shirts, some half inside out. Among them were a dozen other books, sheets of paper, bits and pieces of in-progress models. He was suddenly glad he'd already seen Azrael downstairs. Otherwise, he might worry there was something alive trapped somewhere in here. If the boy hadn't had his mother's silver hair to help him stand out, he might not have even found _him_.

"...Good goddess, son."

From over near the bed, standing shin-deep in a pile of clothing, Micah looked back at him. His expression was still sour from the exchange downstairs, his face pink with frustration and quite possibly angry tears, but his bewildered father could only stare at the carnage around them. He didn't even move for a long moment.

They had just cleaned this room two _days _ago, and it was worse than it had ever been before. It was like one of Altamira's infamous tropical storms had descended. How in the world did one eight-year-old boy make such an enormous mess in so little time? He was used to his son's tantrums, but they didn't usually consist of trashing entire rooms. If it was escalating to that point, serious words needed to be had.

Carefully, watching his step so as not to crush anything more fragile than a pair of pants, Regal ventured into the fray. "Micah... What is this madness?" There was a hint of warning to his voice, but largely, incredulity was the reigning tone. "What are you _doing_?"

"Packing," the boy huffed, wiping his nose savagely.

"Are you certain about that?" Regal stooped to pick up what he very much hoped to be a clean pair of underwear and held it up, one brow lifted. "Because it looks quite the opposite. I dearly hope your mother hasn't seen this," he added, speaking more to himself as he tossed the article back to the floor where it apparently now belonged.

He sniffled again and glowered about. "...I was looking for the stuff I wanted. And I still haven't found my stupid book."

"Well, I think I have your 'stupid book.'" He held up Chava's find, and at once, light entered the boy's face.

Micah dropped the shirt he was holding like a stone and tried to rush toward his father, which really just resulted in several staggering, tripping steps over the detritus scattered all over the floor, before he grabbed at the book. It wasn't going to be that easy, though. Using his much taller height to his advantage, Regal lifted it out of his son's reach—much to his indignation.

"Ah, ah. Yes, we've found it, and yes, we will pack it, but we are not leaving your bedroom in this state, young man. We still need to get your things in some semblance of order, and that includes all of this." He gestured vaguely with his free hand.

He looked positively mortified at the prospect. "Aww, but _Dad_!" he cried.

"That was not a suggestion. Come now, we can do it together. We'll pack what you want and put the rest away. No arguments. The sooner we start, the sooner we're finished, yes?" And the last thing he wanted, for Micah's sake as well, was his already testy partner to discover this. It seemed he was keeping a lot of secrets for his children this evening.

Ahh, the role of peacekeeper.

Micah sighed dramatically, but with a look from his father, he trudged over to drag out his trunk. And together, they began to sift and sort, fold and pack as quickly as possible. Raine would fight little Rose in the bath only for so long, and then there would be the battle for bedtime, but they were racing the clock. Luckily they _had _just done this a couple days before, and he was well enough used to this song and dance by now.

The trick, he had learned, was to make it a game. Not a competition, for his little boy's competitive streak began and ended with academic standings, but a game of logic and puzzles while they worked. Raine was better at it, admittedly, but old dad could still hold his own, even drained from a day at the office. He posed hypotheticals and presented problems in between trying to separate dirty laundry from clean, and it entertained them both. He did love to watch his son's mind at work.

They went back and forth for a little while, but eventually, the floor was clear, the bed was made and turned down, the trunk was full and sitting by the door, and Micah was straightening the last model on his bookshelf. Pleased with himself that he had not only accomplished a task but he had done it both without another tantrum and before his wife was any the wiser (though that probably meant she was having one hell of a time with their youngest) Regal came up and rested a hand on the silver head. "There we are." He bent over and ruffled his hair. "Now, let's try to keep it this way for more than two days, hm?"

"Well, we're gonna be gone starting tomorrow, so I can't mess it up at least until we're back," he returned cheekily, making the duke release a soft sound of amusement as he steered the child toward his bed.

"Indeed. Now, to sleep."

"What? It's too early, and besides, I'm not tired at all. Can't we keep playing?"

He smiled slightly and reached around to resituate the pillow. "Not tonight, son. We'll be up bright and early in the morning." And heaven knew the young Master Bryant was not a pleasant companion without enough sleep. It was hard enough keeping him happy when he _was _well rested.

Micah wrinkled his nose sourly. "But that's no fair, Dad! It's only Rosie's bedtime," he whined.

He tutted. "Sometimes life isn't fair, my boy," he mused, though Micah's expression said he was taking this far too lightly for his tastes. He scowled, an expression father could swear he inherited directly from mother, but patiently, he just tugged the blanket down a little further "Go on, get into bed. "

"But what about snack?"

"Dinner will have to suffice today—you did eat, yes?"

Grudgingly, Micah nodded. "Chava made dinner 'cause you were at work late," he mumbled.

"Then I know you had plenty and are certainly not wanting for food."

"_Fine_. But wait, Mommy and I didn't read any tonight, and we _always _read together, every day!"

Here, Regal had to sigh. How did one explain to a child the concept of exigency? Granted, Micah was intelligent even for his age, but he didn't tend to understand when things threw his personal plans out of alignment. And he certainly wasn't going to explain that she was busy tending to his younger sister. He still hadn't quite shaken the jealousy.

"...All right, I'll tell you what. If you are good and get into bed, I will read with you for a little while. Is that fair?"

Far from a resounding agreement or expression of gratitude, the glower remained. He even looked _more _upset. "...No," he stated quite bluntly. He did turn around, though, and flopped down on his bed. He wriggled in and pulled the blanket up almost over his head entirely. "I don't want to read. I'm just going to _sleep_."

The duke blinked, then cocked an eyebrow. Well, that was quite a rejection, he mused. Shaking his head and biting back another chuckle that surely would have earned him more reproach, he reached over and extinguished the lamp by the bed. "If that's how you feel. Good night, Micah. I love you," he added as he rose to his feet.

"Love you," was the grumpy, half-muffled grunt of a reply, and Regal permitted himself the smile this time, out of sight. There was definitely no shortage of personality in this family.

After making sure the room was dark enough, he slipped back out into the hallway. He left the door cracked habitually, but when he made to turn, he found Chava climbing the stairs. She returned the smile of greeting and nodded when he signed, **All finished?**

** Everything is packed and ready to go, and I fed Azzy, too. **

His saint of a daughter. What a juxtaposition next to her very temperamental brother. **Thank you. If everything is ready, you should be getting to bed soon, too.**

Again, she nodded. **Heading that way now.**

His smile turned wry as he glanced back toward Micah's door, then down the hall in the direction of Rosalie's. **At least one doesn't fight.**

She grinned. **Problems?**

** Nothing two seasoned parents can't handle. I've been told I'm not as good a companion as your mother, though.**

Here she laughed. **Oh no! Well, **_**I **_**still love you. **Cheerfully, she came forward to stand on her tip-toes and touch a kiss to the humbled man's cheek. **Good night, Daddy. **She brushed his hand affectionately on the way by and went on toward her bedroom. He watched her for a moment longer but then, at last, headed back down the stairs to find himself something quick to eat before he, too, retired.

As he sat on the sofa, Azrael curled up at his side and keeping one watchful eye on his dinner, a soft scrape made him look back in time to see Raine step off the last stair. She was rubbing her eyes, and her gait was heavy and almost trudging. When she turned her gaze toward him, he met it with a knowing, sympathetic smile and gestured with his head to the unoccupied space on his other side.

She came forward and sank down on the cushion with a quiet groan, and he reached forward to retrieve his glass of wine and offer it to her. "You appear to need this more than I do."

Raine snorted softly, but she took it anyway. "The beast has been tamed," she informed him dryly before she took a sip and leaned back into the sofa, closing her eyes. "She's clean, dressed, and all tucked in."

"Chava and Micah have gone to bed, as well. It seems peace has been restored."

"For now. We'll see if it lasts. I assume, if you managed to convince him to sleep, that you must have found Micah's book."

Regal lifted his arm, and she accepted the invitation to settle into his side. She drew her feet up onto the couch and rested her head against his chest. After taking another sip of the wine, she handed it back to him.

"Chava had it all along, though she was a little distracted."

"Mm. I did notice she was elusive this evening."

"She was writing a letter," he chuckled, and he knew from the weary sound of amusement she made that they both knew what that meant.

"That would explain it," mused Raine.

"Mmhm. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about this enthusiastic correspondence, but she does seem happy." Absently, he rubbed her arm and took a sip of his own. "I'm sorry you had to handle the brunt of preparation alone. I tried to leave earlier, but there was something that came up last minute that I—"

He stopped with a blink, having looked down at the slight woman nestled under his arm. Her eyes were closed again, and judging by the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest...she was asleep herself.

"Raine?" he prodded, though he did so quietly so as not to disturb her if she really was out. And indeed, she didn't so much as twitch, curled up just like Azzy with one of her hands hooked by the very tips of her fingers in his shirt. Warmth filled his chest. Eighteen years of marriage, but it never got old.

Regal moved carefully to set down the glass on the end table, then eased himself from the sofa with one arm behind her back and the other slipped under her knees. In this way he cradled her sleeping form like something precious and carried her back toward the stairs. A big day for everyone.


End file.
